


Ors [ Darkness ]

by EphemeralTheories



Series: too much heart [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:25:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EphemeralTheories/pseuds/EphemeralTheories
Summary: Samandriel grew familiar with rough scrapes and close calls in the years since the initial outbreak of the Croatoan virus. Yet, what still felt as new as the day his grace started fading, was physical pain.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I used to RP Samandriel on Tumblr and this is inspired by a End!Verse thread I had with a Castiel. ( Also, I have loads of headcanons about Samandriel’s true vessel but for simplicity let’s just say that he is basically the physical equivalent to Luke Mitchell circa The Tomorrow People / Agents of SHIELD in this. You know, so he’s not a teenage boy like Alfie is. ) 
> 
> Also, this was basically written in like twenty minutes at like ungodly hours and I'll probably come back soon and edit / add more to it. So, please ignore any obvious mistakes. I'll find them and fix them because it's dead week at university soon.
> 
> Feedback and the like is welcome.

Samandriel grew familiar with rough scrapes and close calls in the years since the initial outbreak of the Croatoan virus. Yet, what still felt as new as the day his grace started fading, was physical pain.

He was a stranger to that deep down ache that came with working one’s muscles too long, and the throbbing that stretched to his bones.

Therefore, it was no surprise when an audible wince escaped the former angel as he sat. With a forced smile and dismissive tone he commented, “I’m still not used to the bruises.” 

Admittedly, he was a little worse for wear from the raid earlier that day. Catching himself between a couple Croats and a hard place hadn’t been his smartest move and he was suffering for it. He wouldn’t blame Castiel for it — not now. He couldn’t. Even if the rest of the camp knew the other fallen was responsible for nearly getting them all killed, Samandriel didn’t have it in him to condemn Castiel. 

It had been a long time since the elder of the two was in his right mind.

Sparing a glance back towards said fallen angel, the carefully painted facade of light amusement Samandriel learned from the others was now a little less convincing than he’d like to admit. 

“You know, any advice would be welcome —.”

For a moment, Samandriel was convinced Castiel would remain silent, as the other man seemed far too occupied with a couple of pills he tossed between his hands.

His grin was manic, resembling what Samandriel’s vessel would call ‘cheshire’, though the emotion was far from his eyes. The younger fallen could not recall the last time light shone through those orbs.

“You’ll get used to them eventually,” He told Samandriel easily, tipping his head back to swallow down whatever poison he would subject his body to this day. 

_All Samandriel could see was the Croats surrounding them. All he could hear was the bang of a metal chair against concrete. All he could see was Castiel with a bottle of pills in one hand, a pistol in the other._

He was shaken from his thoughts when Castiel snickered.

“Y’know, if you really don’t wanna feel all achey, you could always have some alcohol. Drink enough of it and you won’t feel a damn thing anymore.” Castiel should have known by now that Samandriel would decline the offer. He always did.

Then again, perhaps Samandriel was the foolish one for continuing to ask advice from an addict.

Part of him wanted to chastise Castiel. Part of him told him not to waste his breath.

The elder fallen had yet to listen before. Why would he now? 

There were a million questions he wanted to ask the other man right now, yet the one that passed through his lips was one that addressed the greater good. Somehow, Samandriel wasn’t surprised. After all, he did not fall to save an angel from himself — he fell to protect what God created. 

“What happened back there, Castiel?”

Samandriel watched as Castiel leaned back in his seat, hands folded behind his head. The former angel sighed, the cracking of his spin audible as he stretched himself out. 

“What happened? Oh, uh, I don’t know.” Castiel shrugged.

Samandriel narrowed his eyes at the other man. Seeing beyond might have been his talent when grace ran through his veins, but he didn’t need celestial intent to identify the lie as soon as it left his elder’s lips.

“I saw these,” Castiel told him, nudging the bottle of pills on the desk before him with the toe of his boot. “Everything else didn’t matter.” His eyes lingered on the bottle, gaze shifting from hollow to shame. Samandriel didn’t react to the humanity so evident in the other angel’s form. He waited for Castiel to finish. “Ended up knocking over a chair and — you know the rest — don’t you?”

A hollow laugh escaped Samandriel’s throat, lips parted in a contrived smirk. He dismissed the anger and hurt as soon as it beckoned him, a shake of his head and quick clenching and relaxing of his fist pardoning the younger fallen from humanity’s grasp, if only for a moment.

“Castiel…” His voice was hushed. “You are growing reckless.”

Samandriel did not need to mention the near consequences of the other’s actions. The few words he spoke were enough. Once upon a time, the elder of the two told him the same.

Castiel seemed to size Samandriel up then, eyes following his form from head to toe.

What Samandriel would not give to have the connection between them restored again, so that he could feel what his companion was thinking, rather than guess.

Castiel’s jaw clenched then, and he brought a hand to rub over his eyes.  
“I’m sorry, Samandriel.” Samandriel struggled to remain steadfast at the apology. “I wasn’t thinking. I never meant to mess things up…”

Castiel stopped then, watching Samandriel as he walked towards the desk, seizing the bottle of pills within his grasp.

Samandriel returned the bottle to it’s place after a moment, having gathered all the information he needed from reading the label. Only when he took a step back did Castiel continue. “You’ll forgive me, right?”

Castiel’s pain was obvious, his fear evident — his dependency, even more so. Yet, Samandriel could not let this slide. 

“I do not say much about your behavior.” Samandriel paused then, feeling his true age. Thousands of years and here he was, for the first time in his existence, truly the youngest he would ever be and yet, compelled to act as an elder. 

“There was once a mission,” He continued. “I know that I am not without fault, but I sometimes wonder if you have forgotten. — Your promise to Sam Winchester. Your oath to heaven. Your own moral principles. And…” Samandriel trailed off then, the selfish thought of _‘what about me?’_ passing through his mind.

Samandriel would never regret falling for humanity, for the innocent lives lost, but he was tired. He held strength for himself, for Castiel, for whoever needed it. His form housed selflessness for the entire camp.

So perhaps he only allowed himself this one comfort, to be selfish about his brother at arms, to be tired around him.

“This is what we are now,” Samandriel gestured to his own form. “I am not the man telling you how to live, but as long as you keep breathing I cannot and will not hold anything against you.” 

Other thoughts gone now, he truly considered Castiel’s request for forgiveness. 

With a nod, Samandriel's features pulled into a grin, though his eyes remained hollow.

“So yes, Castiel. — I forgive you. I wouldn’t be myself otherwise.”


End file.
